


If You're Going, I Wanna Go With You

by Zetal (Rodinia)



Series: SPN One-Word Bingo [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Jack is Sam's Son, M/M, Sam is Jack's Dad, Unusual Outpourings of Emotion, You Might Want To Have a Toothbrush Handy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/pseuds/Zetal
Summary: In his exhaustion, Sam very nearly missed them.  Fortunately, no matter how exhausted, he had a lifetime of training to be aware of his environment on his side, and he managed not to faceplant until he stared at the flowers on the nightstand.





	If You're Going, I Wanna Go With You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN One Word Bingo  
> Square: Camellia

All Sam wanted to do was sleep. He’d thought, now that there were no world-destroying threats or petulant archangels or civil wars erupting in Heaven or Hell, that things would settle down and he and Dean could take it easy. He hadn’t counted on Dean getting an itch to go out on a road trip. “Old-school, Sammy. Just you, me, Baby, and the open road. No angels, no demons, no ancient witches. It’ll be fun.”

And it was, it was just exhausting. Even Dean had agreed that it was time to cut the trip short and go home, and by the time they’d made it, Dean made Sam promise not to let him ever talk him into this again. They were too old for this shit. Sam had agreed readily, even knowing that in a couple months Dean would get itchy and they would, in fact, do this again.

Unpacking could wait. Laundry could wait. Even getting undressed could wait. He was used to sleeping in his clothes. Once he got his boots and jacket off, that was it, he had no more energy to get anything else off. He was just about to flop into his bed when he noticed the flowers on the nightstand. Training cut through the exhaustion and he went over to examine them.

The days of believing the Bunker was impregnable were long gone, but it was still more likely that the flowers were from Castiel. They didn’t usually go for that kind of romantic gesture, but occasionally Castiel got some random idea that Sam deserved more than what they were and did things like this. Those didn’t last long. Sam really was happy with what Dean called their cuddlemance.

Sam was wrong. The flowers weren’t from Castiel. There was a letter tucked under the vase, and although Sam was too tired for the letters to make sense the way they should, there was no mistaking Jack’s handwriting, an odd mixture of archaic like Castiel’s and childish like the inexperienced writer he was. Sam carefully put the letter back where he found it and faceplanted.

 

Normally, Sam’s dreams were nightmares. It had been that way all his life, so he’d gotten so used to it that even a night of dreamless sleep was one Sam remembered as unusually pleasant. For years as a kid, he’d thought the idea of having good dreams was something people made up so they could face going to bed. It wasn’t until he’d been at Stanford for over a year that Sam started having some good dreams. Castiel helped, which is one reason why Dean was such a shipper.

Tonight, even without Castiel sitting with him, Sam’s dreams were pleasant. The specifics varied, but the general pattern was the same: he and Castiel and Dean were out somewhere together having fun and watching Jack enjoy himself thoroughly with the lovely human experiences. A trip to the beach, a picnic, amusement park, even the Grand Canyon once. Sometimes Mary would join them, or Jody and Claire, but it always felt like a happy family that was almost normal.

For once, Sam was a little sad to wake up. In the real world, things were always just a little bit messy, never as simple and easy as they were in dreams. The first thing he did was reach for the letter to see what Jack was thinking.

 

_Dear Sam,_  
_Castiel and I went out shopping the other day and I asked him why flowers were so popular that they needed their own shop. He says that humans give each other flowers as a way of expressing a lot of things, but that they were often rooted in love. I asked if flowers could be used to say thank you, and he said yes, so hopefully he’s right._  
_I’ve never known how to thank you. This doesn’t feel like enough. I don’t know that anything’s enough to express how thankful I am that I found you and that you were willing to take me in, even over your brother’s objections. I know what’s in my blood and my grace, and it still scares me sometimes that I could turn out to be like him. Every time I start thinking that, though, I remind myself that you overcame the darkness within you. Blood isn’t everything. Choices matter._  
_One of the first choices I ever made in my life was to choose you. I don’t know if you ever wanted a son, but I can’t imagine you not being my dad. Thank you._  
_Jack_

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes. He hadn’t wanted a son. Any time he thought about having kids, it was always daughters. He’d never trusted himself not to treat a son the way he’d been treated by his dad, even though he knew better from the time he was young. Apparently, he’d done pretty well.

Changing into clean clothes and sorting out his hair gave him the time he needed to collect himself before leaving his room. Something in the kitchen smelled amazing, and Dean always had needed less sleep than Sam, so he headed to see what Dean was doing.

It wasn’t Dean. Jack had a laptop out showing a cooking video and was following along with it. “Jack?”

“Sam! Hi. Castiel thought you’d sleep another hour or so. This was supposed to be lunch in bed.” He looked guiltily at the steak he was cooking. “I haven’t even started on the salad…”

“I know this was supposed to be for me, but if I help, that’s time we’re spending together. Is that okay?”

“Sure. I’m sorry I messed this up…”

“No. Jack, you didn’t mess up. It may not be what you intended, but you’re still doing something incredibly sweet for me.” Sam came over and wrapped Jack up in a hug. “Bobby – our world’s Bobby – told me once that it was okay to not want kids, that he hadn’t, but to be ready to love them if they showed up. You showed up, and I can’t imagine not having a son now.”

Jack hugged back. “Thank you. I love you so much.”

“What brought this on?” Sam asked as he let go. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, it’s just… you didn’t learn this from me or Dean, and Cas isn’t much better. I get the passing the flower store and deciding to get some, but this is more than that.”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. It started with the flowers, and the lady recommended white camellias, and when I smelled them I just… went a little nuts, I guess. Castiel said there was some kind of magic in them, but that it was harmless at worst and benevolent at best. Maybe this is it.”

Sam bit his tongue to avoid blurting out the first thing that came to mind, that this was the wholesome equivalent of sex pollen. The only thing it was going to hurt was Dean’s grumpiness about emotional displays like this. “If Castiel said it’s fine, then I’ll believe him. Where is he?”

“Claire called needing help with a hunt in Missouri. He said to tell you he was sorry to miss you, but he’ll be back as soon as he can, hopefully with Claire coming to visit.”

Sam paused, trying to remember if anyone had told Jack exactly how they knew Claire. "You know Castiel's kind of a father figure to her, right?"

"Yes. He's explained the whole thing with Jimmy Novak and how much he regrets destroying her family and he's trying to be there for her since it's his fault her father can't. Which makes her like my sister, right? I want to meet my sister."


End file.
